Latitude of Longing
by Calfie
Summary: Making out is so hard to do. KakaSaku


Naruto doesn't belong to me.  
Neither does the poem,  
or even my favorite shirt.  
It's actually my sister's.  
Don't tell her.

* * *

This started out as a  
jumping rope  
You'll prob'ly think that  
I'm a dope  
But this started out as a  
jumping rope  
And now I fear there is  
no hope  
But this started out as a  
jumping rope.

- "Jumping Rope," Shel Silverstein

* * *

It easily could have been Naruto's shoulder Sakura leaned into. Or Sai's arm wrapping around her waist for the walk home. Even Yamato's ear she chose to nibble on.

But.

They were all his, Kakashi's.

If she didn't look so cute as he peeled down his mask (the surging awe –_ Sensei? What're you hiding under there? What's the big fuss_?), he definitely wouldn't have put his face any closer to hers and said something so totally pointless and corny he couldn't believe he let it spurt out. This didn't make any sense. Kakashi didn't do anything that didn't make sense, unless totally inebriated. Curiously, no alcohol or miniskirts were involved. It just turned out that Sakura cooing _sensei, sensei_ to him endlessly was a huge turn-on. If that didn't raise his status from ordinary pervert to super pervert, he didn't know what would.

She had her hands in his hair and he was unsnapping her shirt when he stopped and told her to say it again, with Hyuuga Hinata's intonation. (_S-sensei_?)

That was about the time he plunged deeper into nonsensical depravity. (_Ah. Um, do it again, would you_?)

(_Do you like Hinata in_ that way_, sensei? Do you_?) She crawled up into his lap slowly, painfully, until her knee pressed awkwardly against his groin. What a pretty little knee it was. And why was she interrogating him now? Why was she hurting him? Didn't she know how unseemly it already was that she had unmasked one of things that he himself didn't know..._ turned him on_? But it wasn't like he hadn't had a whole slew of little girls in the past few years refer to him as sensei. He wasn't _that_ much of a pervert.

But still.

In the back of his mind he knew he couldn't slouch around acting cool and mysterious after this. He could stop it right now and it wouldn't change things a bit. He could go pour them some wine and it wouldn't change things. She _knew_... of his _perversion_... and what was there left to do? Panic and toss her out the window? Roll her up in the rug and push her down the stairs?

Let her kiss him like mad?

That was permissible.

Just jumping to all the possible outcomes (rumors, death threats, scandalized gasps) prompted him to slide his finger over her mouth (_hush_, _hush_) with that sly little smile entreating him to call his finger off. (_You know what happens after this, right? We keep this all very quiet, okay? Nobody knows. Not Naruto, Sai or Yamato. Not even your shishou. Especially not your p– Don't do that_.) He wiped his wet finger—from her _tongue_—onto her collar, as a sort of retaliation. She did it again, only on his _face_. Okay, where was she getting this stuff? What poor role model had spurred on this... this unsettling precociousness? Certainly not him.

Ino?

The Godaime?

Probably her, yes. He could imagine the Saturday nights spent picking up sake bottles with Shizune. How she learned, how she even gathered the courage to do it was beyond him. This was the stuff of Orochimaru's tutelage. The next time he saw Sasuke, he was totally expecting him to have an extendi-tongue.

(_Say it one more time_.)

(_Sen_... _sei_.)

The sting of her biting his lower lip (gently, gently) jarred him from stupid reveling enough to press down on her shoulders until she was arched backwards awkwardly, her elbows digging into sofa. He titled her chin up a little with his fingers until she was _just right_. (_Hey, hey, this is_ _uncomfortable_, she whined.) (_Too_ _bad_, he said a little too cheerfully.) Without much thought, he finished unsnapping her top, let the tips of his fingers float over her visible skin and doff just enough strap off her shoulder to kiss. The rest could come off later.

(_Sensei... you don't think I'm a kid, do you_?)

He paused. With a flaky smile, of course. (_Kuku. You're just a baby in all this stuff– er, no. You're a determined, capable young woman who knows what she wants_.)

(_Likewise_. _You're_ _a_ _determined_, _capable_ _old pervert who knows what he wants_. _And what you want is_ me.)

It disturbed him, mildly, that she said it so proudly, as if every aspiring kunoichi had the ultimate goal of being the fire of her sensei's loins. She wasn't a trip of three steps down the palate, though. Three syllables, yes. That enough was disconcerting.

He wanted his conscience to roll over and die. He wanted to stab it repeatedly with a kunai until it bled his grey matter red. He wanted it and his id to get into a sumo-wrestling match and be ground into a fine powder that questionably sick medicinal-heroin users would snort up with glee. That was how much he wanted to cup her disappointingly small breast.

Oh, he already was.

Whenever he had the weird kind of platonic (what?) fantasies about this (which he would _neverinamillion_ years admit to), he was respecting her body (with a full flush) and asking _Where_ _do_ _you_ _wanted_ _touched_, _Sakura_? He wasn't being so greedy as he was now, not asking her awkwardly to please place her hand here, stay still there or even call her _sweetheart_. Which he had never done in his entire life. To a single-celled or otherwise multicellular organism.

After lots of rubbing and friction and general motion, Sakura slouched gawkily in his lap, her knees squeezed against his hips. Her head was tucked up into his chest. He didn't know what do to with his hands but stroke the back of her head with his thumb lazily. His thoughts trailed around how things would go from there. He trusted her discretion. He had no choice but to trust her discretion. Nothing she ever did before (okay, a few things) warranted too much distrust. Her privacy was in her hands. And if she mentioned that she'd seen Kakashi-sensei's true face to Naruto... well, then she would also have to give him a painful explanation of _how_ she saw it. Surely Naruto would be the last person to tell about this.

He smiled.

(_Sensei_...)

He frowned. "What?"

"What happens after this, with... with us?"

_"_Oy, don't say that right now. Normal people bask in the afterglow."

_"_We really didn't go _that_ far."

What _did_ happen then? "Well, first I thought we would colonize a small section of the Wind country. I'm sure the daimyo won't mind. All it is is miles and miles of sand. Then we'll start our own hidden village and call it Sakuragakure. You be kage, I insist."

_"_Be serious."

He started curling her hair around his finger. _"_I am. And when we get there, you'll be saying _sensei_ like a mantra."

_"_I want to know... if I should come by again. Like this."

_"_We'll populate it ourselves. Naruto will be busy being the Hokage... Sai can do whatever Sai does. Yamato can drop by for a visit if he's near. Sasuke... well, we'll put up no-trespassing signs when he comes around."

She actually grabbed him by the chin, forcibly._ "_Kakashi. For real_."_

He sighed. "Call me _sensei_. Ugh–ugh, okay! Sure... drop by if you're so inclined. I thought my plans were an appropriate yes. Underneath the underneath. Did I teach you nothing?"

_"_Beneath underneath the underneath is where I was basing my question off. It's such a... muddled territory."

_"_Ooooh, you and your teenage politics. I can't wait for you to grow up."


End file.
